


There's Just Time

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cigarette Usage, M/M, Violence, cursing, mikey cries a lot idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke doesn't feel the way Michael wants him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fucked Up Bad

A rusty streetlamp flickers sporadically overhead.

 

He’s just outside his hotel room, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, totally engrossed in the fulgurating pulse of light. The slick outer sheath of his coat is still a bit wet, and its fur lined hood hugs up close around his neck, doing its best to keep out the cold. Damn, is it cold.

Michael hasn’t been this calm in forever. In fact, it’s been so long, he’s not even sure if this is what that is. He figures it’s calm, though, because he, for once, doesn’t feel like he’s suffocating. He isn’t seething with rage or hate, and he doesn’t particularly want to punch anything.

Instead, he is perfectly numb.

He considers this, and finally looks down from the light. He reaches up to hold his cigarette steady, bracing for a drag, before he realizes that he’s been staring at that lamp for longer than originally thought. It’s down to the filter, and his pack is empty.

“God fucking dammit,” Michael mutters, throwing the stupid thing to the ground and grinding it with his foot.

His eyes linger on the sidewalk for a moment. It’s been raining all day and there are puddles everywhere. He catches his reflection in the one he’s been standing in for half an hour, and winces.

“Jesus..” He runs his hand through his hair- unwashed, matted, and sticking up everywhere. The sea green tint of it makes it look as though someone’s just gone and thrown up on his head. Bloodshot eyes are accented by two black crescent moons and a bloodied lip.

A bloodied fucking lip…

It all comes back in a flash, and Michael wants to rip his hair out.

 

He was sitting in the lounge area of their room, watching tv, when his freshly showered roommate plops down beside him on the loveseat.

His heartbeat quickens a bit when he glances over at Luke, still in his towel. The blonde notices, and turns to Mikey, half chewing on his protein bar, half assessing the look on his best friend’s face.

“Hey, dude,” Luke approaches cautiously, “, you alright?”

Michael looks away, down at his hands. “Yeah man, no worries. You just caught me off guard.”

Luke’s face scrunches up and he lets out a half-sigh, half-laugh. “Caught you off guard? It’s not like I’m naked or anything, Mikey. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mikey goes a little red at the thought. He’s not been normal around Luke for some time, you’d think the younger boy would be used to it by now. Of course, he’d been in love with Luke for a very long time. But as of recent it’s been getting harder to keep it all in. Luke’s been maturing and Michael doesn’t really know how to handle it. He doesn’t know how to react anymore, so afraid of what might become of this actions if he were to do something wrong.

That’s what makes this next part entirely too stupid.

“Mikey?”

Michael snaps out of his trance and looks up, only to be met by Luke’s blue, blue eyes.

“Do you need to go to the doctor or something? Maybe I should go fetch Calum and Ash..” He trails off, thinking that perhaps his friend has a fever, because his cheeks have been red for an awfully long time now.

Michael blinks. “No, no! You don’t have to, I just… I,” His breathing quickens and he panics. And then he makes the biggest mistake of his life.

Mikey’s eyes blink shut and everything is still- his heart, his breathing, his lips- and he reaches forward and grabs Luke’s face, pulling him close and kissing him. It’s just a slight moment before he releases him and opens his eyes in terror, taking in Luke’s motionless stature and intense, empty gaze.

“Oh God, Luke, I’m so sorry, I-“

“What the fuck was that?” It’s a low whisper, and the blonde seems to be back in the moment again.

“What?” Michael stops breathing.

“I said, what the fuck was that?!” Luke rages, popping up. “Did you just fucking kiss me?!”

“Well, I mean, that part seemed pretty obvious.” Michael trails, slightly annoyed with the reaction.

“What the fuck?!” Luke’s face takes on a look of disgust, his eyes clouded over with hate. “Fucking gross! You fucking fag, oh my God!” He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and looks down at it, like he expected to see lingering cooties or some other bullshit.

Michael is very quietly taken aback by this. Luke just called him, above all things, a fag. He’s acting like, instead of his best friend kissing him, his mouth just got shit on by some street pigeon. It fucking hurt, but that only made him angry.

“You’re seriously going to be that way? My fucking bad, mate, didn’t realize you were going to be a child about it.” Mikey spits, feeling like he could scream.

“You fucking kissing me! You’re disgusting!” Luke turns on him, and drops his protein bar to the ground, now pointing accusingly at other. “I’m switching rooms.”  
“Oh, you’re switching rooms?” Michael scoffs, “Is little Lukey afraid Big Bad Gay Michael is going to molest him in his sleep?”

And that sends Luke over the edge. He cocks his fist back, tears boiling up in his eyes, and lets it fly, hitting Michael straight in the mouth.

He met the floor and Luke stormed out.

So he’s been out here for a while, leaning against a dirty street lamp and emptying out a pack. He knew he had to go back in and face the others, but after being out here for a while, he realized that he feels better now, slightly. He still feels angry at himself for doing what he did, but it’s like this huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. At least he doesn’t have to fucking hide anymore.

Mikey pulls out his phone and looks at his eight missed calls; three from Calum, four from Ashton, and, surprisingly, one from Luke. Though that made his stomach drop. He couldn’t hide forever, though.

So he scrubs his faces with his hands roughly and sighs heavily, turning on his heal to deal with what he’d done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, eh, is how I feel about this all in all. Might type up a significantly better paced, more interesting part two. I'd greatly appreciate some feed back, this is my first 5sos work! Thanks for reading!


	2. Thanks Calum

Michael had always been a bit too impulsive, and he knew that. But Calum knew it before he did, and usually tried to intercept the situation back in school when he thought Mikey was about to pop up and do something stupid. Honestly, the dark haired Kiwi was probably the only reason he hadn’t been dropped like that before now.

Before now.

Gravel crunches between slick pavement and battered old converse. Mikey runs a hand over his face, really fucking wishing he hadn’t wasted that last cigarette. He’s getting closer and closer to the door of their room—first floor, parking lot view. Small town, therefor small accommodations.

His heart thump thump thumps against his ribs, fearfully trying to break free. He doesn’t blame it. This is like the hardest thing he’s ever going to have to deal with. Or so he assumes. Whatever. He just kissed his best friend and got punched in the face, this is pretty fucking difficult, okay?

And so fucking stupid, too.

Why on earth had he thought that was a smart idea? Of all the things he could’ve said or done in that moment, he, above all else, had to choose to kiss him. Jesus fuck, he wanted to break. He wanted to shatter and scream and curse and cry and smash his head against a wall.

There’s only a few steps left and Michael is a hundred percent sure he’s not ready for his, but he has to be, he has to be, because this is his fault and he has to fix it and, and—

Jesus Christ, this is so stressful.

This is so stressful. This is too stressful and he wants to cry but he can’t because he has his hand on the hotel room door and he’s trying to catch his breath so he can face whatever’s waiting for him on the other side of this fragile plywood, and—

The door opens.

Michael looks up, startled to say the least. Petrified because he’s not ready and, oh god, what if it’s Luke--

“Bro, what the fuck, get in here.” Calum mumbles, pulling Mikey in with an arm slung over his shoulders.

“Calum?” He chokes out, and he’s so relieved.

Ashton is sitting a few feet forward on Luke’s bed. Luke is nowhere to be seen. And Michael feels like he can breathe again but oh god how is he going to explain this. He can’t just write it off as a lapse in judgment. He can’t do anything but tell the goddamn truth and that’s terrifying. That’s terrifying and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to look his friends in the eye after this.

“Come sit down, come on—“ Calum’s voice is soft and unthreatening as he leads him to his own bed to sit across from Ash.

For a moment Michael just breathes and they just stare at him; Ashton’s hands are clasped extremely tight, his foot bouncing at amazing speeds. Calum’s still standing, one hand on his hip, one at his forehead pressing against his hairline anxiously.

“I’m sorry,” Mikey mumbles under his breath, staring down at his hands.

“What happened?” It’s an instant snap back from the Kiwi, as though he had been holding it in this whole time, just waiting for someone else to speak first.

“I—“ And the green haired wonder has to pause because he doesn’t know how this is going to sound or how they’re going to react or what’s going to fucking happen and he just can’t push it pass his lips to save his life.

“I kissed Luke.” He sounds so fragile and small, this is not loud obnoxious impulsive Mikey. This is confused afraid and alone Mikey. This breaks Calum’s heart.

“Yeah, but. Why?” And these are Ashton’s words as he’s rubbing at his eyes intensely with his gigantic hands.

Green eyes blink rapidly, tears falling to his jeans, to the bed clothes, to the ground. Calum is shooting Ashton some kind of hardass look. Michael looks up and sees it only briefly before he speaks and the attention is back on him.

“Because,” He gulps, his voice still unbearably small, “I am in love with him.” It takes a long time to say, he drags out every syllable like it’ll make it hurt less.

“Mikey,” Calum whispers, his face a mixture of hurt, because he didn’t tell him, and sympathy, because Luke punched him in the fucking face.

“You’re in love with him.” Ashton echoes, voice shaky.

“Yes, I am in love with him. I’m in love with Luke.” He drops his face into his hands roughly, and Calum is moving over to sit by him. “I’m in love with Luke and I kissed him and I’m sorry.” He’s sobbing, breath hitching in his throat, body shaking. Cal wraps his arms around his friend.

“I’m s-so fucking sorry,” He whines, and Ashton has to leave. He can’t watch this.

“It’s going to be alright, Michael. It’s going to be fine.” Cal mumbles into the other’s ear, rubbing his back.

“He punched me,” Just a tiny whisper, like he still can’t even believe it himself.

“He’ll get over himself.” A reassurance that Calum can’t really promise, but Ashton’s gone and Luke’s AWOL and he can’t stand to see his friend like this.

“I’m so sorry,” Michael moans again, and at this point he’s leaning into the New Zealander, soaking up every ounce of comfort he can. It feels like he may puke, like he may all of a sudden snap and be angry again, hunt down Luke and throttle him, throw himself off the nearest bridge. But he doesn’t and he won’t. He just needs Calum right now. He just really needs Calum.

\--

They’ve been sitting like this in almost-silence for a while now, Michael still hiccupping from his crying fit, when Cal finally speaks up.

“You could probably use a shower, mate.” And Michael sniffs, moving to pick himself up.

“Yeah,” he agrees weakly, standing up.

“Do you want me to stay here or should I go back to my room?” His friends asks, looking up at him with big wide brown eyes.

“I’m fine, you can—you can go, Cal.” He says, doing his best to smile a little at his friend. It was already so late and he’d already worried him so much. Michael couldn’t stand to make him stay.

“Are you sure? I’ll stay if you want me to. We don’t really know where Luke is—“ He abruptly looks down as he mentions the blond’s name. “We don’t really know where Luke is, or if he’ll be coming back tonight, so I could stay here and room with you, if you want.” It’s pretty quietly murmured, like he’s unsure of himself and his words.

“I’m sure. It’s late, Cal. You need some rest. Go back and sleep.” He doesn’t even mention Luke. He doesn’t think he has it in him.

Calum smiles up at Michael gently. “Alright, mate. But you get some sleep, too, okay?” He stands, clasps Mikey’s shoulder and winds him in for a hug. “Stuff to do tomorrow.” A tired sigh, and he’s obviously just as tired as his friend. It’s been a long day.

“Okay, Cal. Thank you.”

\--

It’s dark.

It’s dark and Michael cried in the shower twice, but hasn’t since he’s been laying in bed. He counts that as an achievement.

Thoughts are rushing through his mind at a million miles per hour, and he’s numb again. It’s as though he can only feel when people expect him to. He was fine outside. He didn’t break down until Calum and Ashton got their hands on him.

He sighs, pulling a hand over his face. Luke had not returned in the past hour. And, while Michael is still pretty fucking angry, he fears for his friend’s safety. Especially if he did something stupid like go out and get wasted. Which he probably did, because Michael fucking kissed him and then he punched him and oh my god why wouldn’t you want to get drunk after that?

Rolling over on his side, Michael curls up, phone in hand, wondering whether he should text someone and see the status of things band-wise or if he should just forget it and go to sleep.

Unquestionably, the latter wins.

So here he is.

In the dark, almost light of the nightmorning, curled over on his side, praying someone has cigarettes tomorrow, praying that the band will be okay, angry and sad and numb about what happened to put him here, and really over all just missing his mum.

He feels pathetic and useless and strangely a little hungry. Sleep is taking over.

Sleep is taking over, and he doesn’t really know what he’s seeing when his phone lights up and reads:

**LUKE** : we need to talk tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this happened!! finally!! there will be a part three and i'm almost 100% sure it'll be the end. this is honesly so gross i promise i can write better than this it's just been a while & the literature muscles are still warmin up. thanks for reading xx


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